


Wind and Portacabins

by YellowBananaOwl



Series: Fandot Creativity Night Ficlets [52]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBananaOwl/pseuds/YellowBananaOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's windy, and Arthur doesn't like that... not one bit!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind and Portacabins

**Author's Note:**

> Written during Fandot Creativity Night  
> Prompt: wind/adore
> 
> Characters belong to John Finnemore

The wind outside the portacabin was howling and Martin sighed deeply. He hated being on standby, and especially on days like this. Fog, rain, and storm warnings hanging over them as dark as the weather outside. Standby days were such a waste for him since his only source of income was outside the airfield and the plane, and this way he neither got paid n _or_ got to do the thing he loved. It was basically a no-win situation. And the weather just made everything worse.

 

Douglas was grumpy for being on standby and forced to be in a leaky box. Carolyn was sneering at everyone and everything and even Arthur seemed to be in a bad mood. He was sitting at a chair in a corner and not saying anything.

 

Martin found himself watching the steward in the corner. This was really not like Arthur at all. He usually loved standby days and usually bounded around the office offering everyone teas and coffees and suggesting to play board games. But today, he seemed tense and even more easily distracted than usual.

 

The portacabin creaked as a gust took hold of the roof, and Arthur whimpered in the corner and pushed his chair even further from the rest of them.

 

”Are you okay, Arthur?” Martin wondered.

 

Arthur nodded, but Martin wasn’t convinced.

 

”He’s just scared of the wind,” said Carolyn dismissively.

 

”I’m not,” Arthur objected. ”I just don’t like it very much.”

 

”It’s just a bit of wind, Arthur,” said Douglas. ”We’ve flown in worse weather than this.”

 

”I know that,” said Arthur, his voice shaking.

 

Another gust made the little building shake, and Arthur stormed into the bathroom.

 

Carolyn and Douglas sighed in unison.

 

”Is he going to be okay?” Martin asked.

 

”Of course he is,” said Carolyn. ”He’s always been like that, but he’ll be his chirpy self once the wind calms down.”

 

But Martin was genuinely worried about the other man and rose from his chair to walk over to the bathroom door. He knocked gently.

 

”Arthur, are you okay?”

 

”I’ll be out in a minute, Skip,” Arthur replied from the inside.

 

”I know you’re not really on the loo, Arthur. Can I come in?”

 

Martin heard the sound of the door lock and opened the door. He found Arthur standing by the sink.

 

”Are you okay?” he asked again.

 

”I will be,” said Arthur. ”I think.

 

”It’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Martin. ”It’s just the way the portacabin is built and the way the wind hits.”

 

”It sounds like the roof is about to come off.”

 

”It does a bit,” Martin agreed. ”But it won’t.”

 

”How can you know that?”

 

”Because we’ve been here in stronger wind before, and that went well. It only sounds more dramatic than it is.”

 

”But what if those other storms weakened the roof and now it can’t take any more wind?” Arthur almost sounded panicky. 

 

”It’s not strong enough to blow the roof off, Arthur. I’m sure!”

 

”Okay, Skip.” Arthur didn’t sound convinced, though.

 

”I’ll tell you what,” said Martin. ”I’ll stay here with you for a while and if the roof blows off -”

 

”YOU SEE, IT CAN HAPPEN!”

 

”Arthur, relax, it won’t.”

 

”But you said _if_.”

 

Before Martin could think of something to say, another gust took hold of the building and it creaked like never before. Arthur grabbed a hold of him and squeezed his hand so hard it started to hurt. Martin didn’t move or make a sound, the other man was clearly terrified.

 

”It’ll be okay, Arthur,” Martin whispered, and the other man threw his arms around him squeezing him tightly.

 

”Don’t let go, Skip,” Arthur begged and kept his arms firmly in place. ”I’m scared.”

 

”I won’t,” said Martin and put his arms around him.

 

He could feel Arthur relax a bit, and they just stood there for a while, holding each other, until Arthur seemed to be okay again. Martin could feel the other man loosen his grip slightly when the wind suddenly returned and Arthur’s whole body stiffened.

 

”It’s going to be fine, Arthur. You’re going to be fine,” he whispered as he stroked Arthur’s back.

 

The wind vaned and Arthur could finally breathe again.

 

”You see,” said Martin. ”The roof is still here, and so am I.”

 

”Thank you, Skip,” said Arthur. ”I know I’m a bit silly, but -”

 

”You are not silly,” Martin objected. ”You can’t help it. And it does sound quite dramatic even if it’s not as bad as it seems right now.”

 

”But Mum always says -”

 

”I don’t care,” said Martin. ”And neither should you. You’re allowed to be scared.”

 

”Even if everyone says it’s nothing to be scared of?”

 

”Even then.”

 

”But I don’t like being scared.”

 

”No one does.”

 

”But it’s a bit less scary when I’m with you,” Arthur admitted.

 

”Then let’s make a deal,” said Martin. ”If you get scared, you come to me, okay? Or you’ll call me if I’m not there.”

 

”But what if it’s in the middle of the night?”

 

”Then you call and wake me up.”

 

”But you have to get your pilot-sleep. I know how important that is.”

 

”Arthur. I mean it. Anytime.”

 

”Thanks, Skip,” said Arthur and squeezed him tightly.

 

They just stood there. Neither of them let go of the other even if the wind hadn’t made its presence known for a long while.

 

”I adore you, do you know that?” Arthur said, and kissed Martin on the shoulder.

 

”I think I’m starting to,” said Martin and rested his head on the steward’s shoulder.


End file.
